


Better Than Nothing

by LadySlytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Mpreg, Slash, dub-con, insane!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry loves Draco, more than anything. And Draco loves him, too. Really. He just doesn’t know it yet. But that’s okay, because Harry’s got a plan. And soon, Draco will understand that they’re meant to be together. And then, everything will be perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to Queenie_Mab for not murdering me over bailing on her fic while I wrote for this fest, even though it took me ages. An enormous thank you to Lindy, who read this through for me, pointed out my mistakes, and squeed at all the right places. I couldn’t have gotten through it without her help. And the biggest, bestest, most-heartfelt thank you goes to Mod!Kitty, for being the most _amazing_ cheerleader anywhere, ever. I absolutely harassed her with questions for the prompter, complaints about the fic, and happy-dances when things went well – and she handled it all wonderfully. Kitty, you’re the best and I adore you!
> 
> This is another from the HD_Mpreg Fest, which got ALL the words from me this year. And art. <3 ~ LS

_I can’t believe this. And to find out from the Daily Prophet, of all things? I’m sick to my stomach. I can feel the bile creeping its way – sweet and acidic – up my throat. How could he do this to me? How can he marry that skeezy, cowardly prick when I’m the one who loves him?_

_In my fury, I bite down on my own tongue and the coppery tang of blood floods my mouth. It centers me; it focuses me. I know what I have to do._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco Malfoy woke up feeling worse than he’d ever felt in his life. His head throbbed, his tongue felt thick and fuzzy, and his whole body felt weak. As he blinked open his eyes, his head spun. He squeezed them shut again as the room lurched sickeningly around him. When his stomach stopped twisting itself into knots and the dizziness passed, Draco tried opening his eyes again.

The room around him was dark and dreary. The bed he was laying on – an old-fashioned four-poster canopy bed, like Hogwarts had – was made of dark wood, as were the dresser, wardrobe, and nightstand in the room. The sheets were a deep emerald green and the comforter was black. Draco sat up carefully, his eyes moving nervously over the dingy, peeling wallpaper and the boarded-up windows. He could feel the tingle of ward-magic against his skin like a caress and realized he wouldn’t be getting out of this place easily.

His chest felt tight, like iron bands had wrapped around it, and Draco didn’t quite know how to cope with that. Draco couldn’t remember much after this morning. He and Zach had been fighting again, like they had every other day for the last two months. Planning a wedding did that to you, of course. This time it had been something ridiculous: which shade of off-white to use. Draco was a fan of ivory; Zach was insisting on cornsilk. Which had resulted in Draco screaming that Zach was an uncultured, inbred half-wit if he thought Draco was getting married with _cornsilk_ -colored linen on the tables.

Draco vowed to himself that if he managed to find a way out of this creepy house, he’d let Zach get the cornsilk linens. Hell, Zach could get everything cornsilk for all Draco cared.

He pushed himself to his feet, his head spinning a little so that he had to brace himself against one of the bedposts. Then he staggered towards the boarded up windows, peeking through the planks and the grimy, dirt-covered windows. The street outside looked like London to Draco, though he supposed it could be any dismal, grey city. How he could have gotten from Wiltshire to London was beyond him. He pressed his fingers to his temples, wishing he could remember.

Suddenly the door behind Draco screeched as it opened on rusty hinges that were badly in need of oil. He whipped around, his back pressing into the wood-covered-window. A cloaked-and-hooded figure stepped into the doorway and Draco felt fear claw at his stomach. There was a darkness to this person; a cloying, sticky sort of feel to their magic that made Draco long for a shower. For the first time since the Dark Lord’s defeat, Draco wished his gift for sensing magic wasn’t so strong.

“Wh-who are you?” He asked in a voice that trembled slightly. Draco silently cursed himself for showing weakness, bringing his chin up and straightening his spine to compensate.

There was a soft, dark chuckle, then the person spoke. “No need to be afraid, Draco. I’m not going to hurt you. I would _never_ hurt you.”

Draco frowned, puzzled by the man’s statement. Draco was certain now, though, that his captor was a man; the low timbre of his voice proved it. His voice was also vaguely familiar, but Draco had a feeling the man was altering it so he wouldn’t be recognized. Draco narrowed his eyes on the other man, determined to get out of this god forsaken house, no matter what. But first, he’d need a plan. And for that, he’d need to get a better read on his opponent.

“If you’re not planning to hurt me, why am I here?” Draco demanded, keeping his voice as cold and emotionless as he could manage under the circumstances. “And just how did I get here? Where is here, anyway?”

“All in good time, Draco.” The man chided softly, shaking his hood-covered head slightly. “You’ll understand everything in time.”

“I don’t plan on staying.” Draco retorted sharply, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. “I have a wedding to plan, you know, as well as a job to go to. I don’t have time for this!”

Another of those dark laughs that curled around Draco and twisted his insides up in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “Actually, you’ve got all the time in the world now.” The man took a step back into the hallway and added. “Now that you’re awake, I’ll bring you something to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

But though Draco’s stomach was practically growling, he wasn’t stupid enough to trust anything this man might serve him. “I’m not hungry in the slightest.” He informed his captor coldly. “I don’t want food. What I want is to leave.”

“We don’t always get what we want!” The man snapped, sudden anger burning through the courtesy and solicitous behavior. “But fine; have it your way. No food.”

Draco opened his mouth, but the man had retreated into the hallway and slammed the door shut. Draco cursed himself under his breath, then began to explore the room. He would find a way out. He _would._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_He’s so beautiful. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want things to happen this way._

_I did try...I did. I tried talking to him. I tried to get close to him; to be his friend. I just wanted to show him how I felt. To let him know how much I love him. How beautiful I think he is. How I know - I know he deserves the best. He deserves his soulmate. He deserves me._

_But he wouldn’t listen! He blew me off and now...now I’ve had to do this. But it’s alright. I’ll make him see. I have time now, after all. Time to show him how perfect we are for each other. To make him understand that he’s mine; that we’re meant to be together. Once he realizes the truth, he’s going to love me back. And then we’ll be together._

_Always._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“We’re following every lead.” Harry assured Narcissa, looking earnest; Lucius was staring broodily out the window at the Manor’s gardens, ignoring Harry. “You know that I’ll do everything I can to bring him safely home.”

“Of course you will, Harry.” Narcissa gave the Auror a watery smile. “Whatever differences you and Draco may have had are in the past. I’ve noticed the way you’ve tried to make peace with him, though his foolish pride has prevented him from accepting.” She reached out and touched the back of Harry’s hand, adding very softly. “I have all the confidence in the world that you’ll save Draco.”

Harry blushed, ducking his head, demurring. “Well, it’s a group effort, Mrs. Malfoy. The whole Auror department is looking for him, you know. We don’t take kindly to Ministry officials being abducted, after all.” He peeked up at her through his fringe and added. “Thank you for your confidence, though. It means a lot to me.”

Suddenly the parlor doors slammed open and a fuming, sneering Zacharias Smith stalked in. To Harry, he was a bit like a cat – hissing and spitting and bristling, but if you knew how to scruff him, harmless. Zach glared at Harry and snarled. “Why are you sitting here, _having tea_ of all things, when my fiancé is still missing? If this is the shoddy sort of work you Aurors do, it’s a wonder anything gets done!”

Harry tensed and something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes for the briefest moment. Then he smiled and said soothingly. “Calm down, Smith. I’m here on official business, to discuss some things with the Malfoys that pertain to the case.”

“Well, then I ought to be involved!” Zacharias stomped his foot, looking ridiculously childish and making Harry wonder what in the name of anything Draco Malfoy saw in him. “I _am_ his fiancé, you know!”

“As you’ve said it twice in the last minute, I can assure you I do know.” Harry retorted, a little sharper than he’d originally intended. Taking a deep breath, he added more softly. “The questions I need to ask are going to make you three angry, I guarantee it. They’ll offend you and insult you. I can’t do anything about that, except apologize in advance. I have to ask them.”

Narcissa smiled wearily at Harry. “Of course you do, Harry. We understand. Please, sit down. Ask us whatever you must. Just find my son.”

Harry sat gingerly on the edge of a small, fragile-looking settee, across from Narcissa. “First, I need to ask if your son was involved in any activities that might have made him enemies.”

Lucius visibly stiffened by the window, snapping. “My family has made reparations, Auror Potter, and I will not hold with my son being accused of such things _five years_ after the war has ended!”

Narcissa made a distressed sound. “I’m sorry, Harry. Lucius is so sensitive about that sort of thing. But no, Draco has had no part of any of these “neo-Death Eater” groups. He’s not even attended any of the so-called “Pureblood Parties” that are all the rage among certain sets. He’s been a model citizen.”

“Of course he has!” Zacharias spat, practically vibrating with fury. “But that’s not going to stop do-gooders like Potter here from blaming my fiancé for the things he was forced to do as a teenager! There’s always going to be someone after him because of that.”

Harry shot Zach a quelling look, then asked Narcissa softly. “Has he received any recent threats that you know of? Even if they seemed far-fetched or harmless...the littlest thing can turn out to be a major clue.”

“I assure you that if _anyone_ had threatened my fiancé I would have reported it.” Zach crossed his arms over his chest, still glaring at Harry. “I don’t take his safety lightly.”

“And perhaps that’s precisely why he didn’t tell you.” Harry said icily, not looking away from Narcissa, who was studying him intently. “Do you know of any?”

“No, I don’t.” Narcissa said, flicking her eyes between Harry and Zacharias in a manner that almost made Harry nervous. “Though Lucius tends to get that sort of thing every now and again, Draco does not.”

“I’ll need any Lucius has gotten in the last six months.” Harry said firmly. “There’s a chance he was taken as a way to strike at his father.”

Narcissa nodded. “Of course. I’ll have an elf fetch them and deliver them to your office.” She anxiously bit her lower lip, then asked. “Is there anything else?”

Harry seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he asked in a low rumble. “Was he unhappy at all?”

Confusion washed over Narcissa’s lovely face and she asked in a shaky voice. “I don’t understand what you mean. He was engaged...planning a wedding. He adores his job at the Ministry. Why would you ask if he was unhappy?”

Harry sighed, but explained. “There are times, in cases of disappearances, where the person wasn’t kidnapped at all. Where they left because they were, for whatever reason, unhappy.”

“How _dare_ you!” Zacharias’ face was so red that Harry wondered if the former-Hufflepuff might actually catch fire. “My fiancé was perfectly happy! And why shouldn’t he have been?”

“Maybe because you refer to him solely as _‘my fiancé’_ instead of saying his name?” The nastiness creeping into Harry’s voice stunned everyone in the room. “You talk about him like he’s nothing more than an extension of you. Maybe he got sick of it.”

Zach paled, looking horribly angry, and Harry turned his attention back to Narcissa. “Was he fighting with Smith at all? Did he seem angry or upset over anything? You’d be surprised at how often someone vanishes and then comes back on their own after a couple of weeks, explaining that they’d just needed some space and some time...”

Uncertainty flickered to life in those blue eyes and Narcissa glanced at Zacharias. “I...well; they _have_ been fighting a bit. Over the wedding. The color of the linens...the china patterns...that sort of thing. All quite normally, really. I don’t think...I mean, it wasn’t anything _serious_...”

Harry made a soft humming sound in the back of his throat, nodding sympathetically. “People often don’t realize how serious things like that can be. Sometimes someone is unhappier than you’d ever think, but is simply hiding it well.”

Lucius kept his back to the room, his eyes locked on the window, and spoke in a low rasp. “I am not sure I like the aspersions you are casting on my future son-in-law’s relationship with Draco, Auror Potter.”

“I’m positive that I don’t care.” Harry replied smoothly, raising one eyebrow daringly. “I know full well the sort of person Smith is; I attended school with him, after all. And it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest to discover that your son is perfectly miserable with him and staying with him simply to avoid the scandal that would follow a broken engagement.”

Harry stood, ignoring the furious faces of Zacharias and Lucius, and sketched a brief bow to Narcissa. “I will let you know as soon as I know anything, Mrs. Malfoy. Please get me those threats as soon as possible so I can start working on them.”

“Of course, Harry.” Narcissa had a shrewd look in her eyes as she stood and bussed cheeks with Harry in the affectionate manner she’d used with him ever since he’d testified on behalf of her and Draco at the end of the war, then returned Draco’s hawthorn wand. “I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

Harry smiled faintly and left without another word. Narcissa watched him go, still considering.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_It’s going well. Everything is going well. Except, of course, for Draco’s current stubbornness. But there are ways around that. I just need to show him the truth. I learned from her mistakes; I really did. I won’t give him some stupid potion that could stop working, or use some spell he could learn to fight. I will simply show him the truth. That he’s meant to love me. That way, he never leaves._

_Never._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco whirled around as the door to his room opened again. It had been two days since he’d woken up in this horrible place and his captor hadn’t tried to speak to him again since that first day. Food and drink had been sent to his room three times a day, but Draco rarely took more than a bite or sip of anything, just in case it was laced with something. So his stomach was cramping with hunger, his mouth felt drier than dust, and he was _not_ in a good mood.

When he saw the cloaked-and-hooded figure standing there, Draco let out a little scream of anger and frustration, and launched himself at the man. “You bloody fucking tosser!”

The man tsked softly even as Draco slammed into him. They toppled to the floor and – much to Draco’s annoyance – the hood remained on the man’s head, shadow obscuring his face. This close, he could feel the magic that was doing it. Clearly his captor had no intention of being identified. That certainly wasn’t going to stop Draco from trying, though. He pushed himself up so he was kneeling above the man’s rib cage and reached for the hood, intending to jerk it back.

A spell jerked his wrists together, then hauled them up over his head as though he’d been bound. His eyes widened as he stretched up, trying to relieve the ache already forming in his shoulders. “Let me go!” He demanded, his silver eyes flashing with fury.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” The man sounded genuinely apologetic, which only served to infuriate Draco further. “Not until you understand.”

Then the man’s hands were on Draco’s hips, his thumbs slipping under the hem of Draco’s shirt to brush against the soft skin of his waist. Draco cried out, horrified, and tried to squirm away from the touch. “Get your hands off of me!” Draco spat, wishing his hands were free to choke the man beneath him. “I am engaged to someone! Stop touching me!”

Those hands gripped tighter for a moment and the pain made Draco freeze, crying out again. “Zacharias Smith is a cowardly waste of space!” He hissed and the sibilance to the words made Draco tremble. “He isn’t right for you. You’ll see that in time. He doesn’t love you. Not the way _I_ do.”

Draco closed his eyes, a sickening sense of awareness washing over him. He whispered. “You know there will be Aurors searching for me. My parents won’t stop until I’m found.”

The dark chuckle that met his words was followed by words that made his stomach sink; they confirmed what he’d just guessed. “No need to worry about Aurors, Draco. I’m in charge of your case and there are plenty of false leads to follow. And as to your parents…that’s being handled as well. You won’t be found until you understand the truth.”

And Draco couldn’t help the sob that worked its way up from his throat. Because cloaked, hooded, and shadowed or not, he _knew_ who his captor was. Only one person – one _living_ person, that was – hissed words in quite that way. And Draco knew that he was doomed. Because if Harry Potter didn’t want him to be found, Draco would spend the rest of his life in this house and he knew it.

“What do you want from me?” Draco asked in a whisper. “You _know_ I’m engaged. You _know_ I love Zach. So what do you want from me?”

Harry’s voice was sharp and dangerous and, if Draco wasn’t so sure it was Potter beneath him, he would have doubted it just from that tone. “You don’t love him! You just _think_ you do.” There was a deep, shaky breath and then - in a much more soothing voice - Harry purred. “You’ll realize the truth eventually, Draco. You’re meant to be with _me._ You’ll see.”

Tears gathered in Draco’s eyes, clinging to his eyelashes for a moment before - with a shuddering sob - they began to fall, swiftly leaving silvery trails of moisture on his pale cheeks. “Please, let me go...” He whispered, his body slumping against the spell’s bindings despite the pain it caused. “Please...please, just let me go. I want to go home...”

Draco didn’t even care that he was begging; he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t hope to best Potter in a fight. Not when the Auror had a wand and he didn’t. 

“Shhh...” Harry shifted out from under Draco and stood, tenderly tipping the blonde’s face up and wiping the tears from his cheeks, cooing down at him. “You are home, Draco. This will be _our_ home, you know. Just as soon as you stop this foolishness and accept the truth.”

Draco shuddered as Harry’s hand carded through his hair. Harry’s magic - strong and twisted - licked against Draco’s scalp like a flame and made him want to get closer and shy away at the same time. It was a strange contradiction and left him feeling uncertain of himself. Draco bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, choosing to hold still rather then move closer or flinch away.

Harry’s hand continued moving through his hair and finally Draco couldn’t take it anymore. He opened his eyes and raised his head, his piercing gaze aimed at Harry’s shadowed face. In a furious snarl, Draco demanded. “Why the cloak? The hood? The shadows? If you’re so certain I love you and am meant to be yours, why hide who you are?”

That head tipped to the side consideringly, and the tone in Harry’s voice was thoughtful. “Because, Draco, you’re stubborn. I thought this would make it easier to accept, you not knowing who I am right away. You’ll see how much you love me first, then I’ll reveal who I am and it will all make sense.”

Draco’s lip curled and he spat. “Nice plan, but there’s a flaw.” When Harry said nothing, Draco continued sharply. “I know who you are, you know. I’d know you from anyone.”

“And doesn’t that just prove my point?” Harry whispered, still not removing his hood. “If you’re right, I mean, and you _do_ know who I am. Doesn’t that prove you’re meant to be with me? I doubt you’d know Smith if it was him in my place.”

And that gave Draco a moment’s pause, because he realized Harry had a point. Draco had no idea if he’d be able to pick out Zach if his lover was cloaked, hooded, and disguising his voice. Pushing down that niggling feeling of doubt, Draco bit out from between clenched teeth. “Just drop the mystery act, Potter. It got old about thirty seconds into this farce.”

There was another low, dark chuckle, then Harry finally nudged the hood off. Draco jerked back, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t go far due to the spell still tying him in place. Harry’s green eyes held a glint of madness to them that Draco had only seen once before; a dark, twisted sort of insanity that accompanied a shattered mind. He had seen it in his Aunt Bellatrix’s eyes when she’d been living with them. And to see it again, in the eyes of their Savior, was more unnerving than Draco cared to admit.

“You see, my love?” Harry purred, leaning down until he was nearly touching his nose to Draco’s. “You’re meant to be mine. I’ve known it for a while. It’s only you who needs to see.”

Draco trembled under that intense stare, struggling to ignore the way Harry’s breath was moving in heated bursts over his face. “You’re _insane_...” Draco whispered around the lump of fear clogging his throat. “You’re as mad as the Dark Lord ever was!”

“Not quite.” Harry replied, grinning in a way that made Draco’s eyes widened. Then Harry added. “As mad as his mother, perhaps...but not as mad as Tom himself. But then, Merope wasn’t half as clever as I am. I would _never_ rely on a potion or spell to bind you to me. That’s so...so _foolish_.” Harry straightened up and patted the top of Draco’s head almost-absently. “No, you’ll come to love me on your own. You just need to be given enough time.”

Draco wondered if, perhaps, he could fake Harry out. He was, after all, a Slytherin. If he could just convince Harry he was coming around - starting to love him - then perhaps he could get the man to let him go. So he said carefully. “I don’t like being confined to one room, Potter. Could you perhaps give me time out of it? I...I would be so grateful...”

Harry studied him for a moment, then smiled slightly. “Of course, Draco. You’re welcome to roam the house as you please.” He patted Draco’s head again and added. “But if you misbehave, I’ll have to confine you again. But I’m sure you understand that.”

Draco nodded immediately. “Of course. I won’t misbehave.” He gave the former-Gryffindor a wide-eyed look and added. “Will you undo these bindings now? They’re hurting me...”

“Oh!” Harry flicked his hand and the spell ended so abruptly that Draco collapsed to the floor, gasping in pain as his shoulders and neck protested the movement of his arms dropping to his sides. Harry made a concerned sound, kneeling beside Draco. “I’m sorry, love. I never meant to hurt you. You do know that, don’t you? I would never hurt you on purpose...”

The earnest plea in Harry’s voice creeped Draco out even as it reassured him. He tolerated Harry’s hand on his cheek, forcing a smile onto his lips as he soothed. “Of course you didn’t mean it. I never thought you were hurting me on purpose.”

Harry smiled and stood again, holding out a hand to Draco. “Come on, then. I’ll give you a tour.”

Draco gritted his teeth, but clasped hands with Harry and let the Auror pull him to his feet. Once he was upright, he swayed; all of the blood seemed to leave his head at the same time, leaving him lightheaded and unsteady.

“Oh!” Harry cried out and caught him. “You haven’t been eating enough! Come on. I’ll give the tour _after_ you’ve had some food. I don’t want you getting ill. Your mother will never forgive me if your health declines while you’re in my care.”

Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from pointing out that Narcissa would happily kill Harry - Savior or not - once she found out he’d kidnapped her child. Instead, he nodded. Because he really _was_ starving and if he watched Harry make the food he could ensure it wasn’t laced. Not to mention Harry seemed adamant about not drugging him with a potion. Not that Draco thought he could trust someone who was clearly insane, but it was that or risk being too weak to escape if the chance presented itself.

He followed Harry to the kitchen, ignoring the disturbing feeling of Harry’s magic tickling his skin as Harry helped support his weight on the way down the numerous stairs. The whole house was dark and a little dingy, with a musty smell and dust-covered surfaces. Neglect sat heavily on the building and everything in it, making Draco wrinkle his nose in distaste. He couldn’t imagine living someplace that was so ill-cared for. It just made him want to leave that much sooner.

Harry noticed the look on his face as they reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs. A large, covered painting hung there, making Draco wonder briefly what it was before the Auror drew his attention by saying apologetically. “I know the house isn’t much to look at, but I didn’t want to start restoring it until you were here. I want your input on everything, you know. That way it will be more _ours_.”

Draco suppressed a shiver and dropped his eyes as they moved down the hallway, saying softly. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

Draco watched from the corner of his eye as Harry smiled widely, his whole face lighting up. “I have done some work on the kitchen, mind you. And the master bedroom. And a little in the library. But that’s _only_ because those are the rooms I use the most.” Harry looked suddenly anxious as they moved down the small staircase to the kitchen. “If you don’t like it, we can change it.”

Draco stepped into the kitchen, ignoring Harry for the moment in favor of looking around. His eyes widened; the room was _huge_. He had a feeling it might take up the entire basement, in fact. There was an enormous fireplace at one end, with a fire crackling merrily. The stone floor was clean, and the dark wooden cabinets that lined the room shone with polish. The counters were a dark green marble and the long wooden table at the room’s center was well-worn but scrubbed spotless. Pots and pans hung cheerfully from the ceiling, gleaming. Over the fire, a large cast-iron pot was bubbling away, releasing a mouth-watering scent. It was actually a lovely room.

“Do you like it?” Harry was hovering near Draco’s elbow, still looking anxious. “I really don’t mind changing it to suit you better. I want you to be happy here.”

“It’s lovely.” Draco admitted, one of the first honest things he’s said since deciding to try to trick Harry into freeing him. “Really. You’ve done a good job.”

“Ah, well...not me. Or not just.” Harry admitted, a bit sheepishly. “There’s a house elf here, actually. But I’ve told him not to bother you. He can be a little...overwhelming sometimes. I’ll introduce you once you’re more settled in. Sit down while I get you something to eat.”

Draco readily complied, sitting down at the long table and watching as Harry shed the cloak he’d still been wearing. This left the Gryffindor in dark blue jeans that hugged what Draco grudgingly acknowledged was a fine set of legs and a gorgeous ass, and a light green tee-shirt. Draco continued to watch Harry as he moved confidently around the kitchen, slicing what looked like freshly-baked bread and slathering butter on it and ladling up what was apparently stew out of the pot over the fire. Seeing how comfortable Harry was in the kitchen made Draco wonder if the other man had actually cooked the stew in question.

His eyes widened as Harry crossed to a cupboard and got down a red potion, opening the vial and tipping it over one of the bowls of stew, adding a few drops and stirring it in. “Hey!” He protested sharply, eyes narrowing. “I’m not eating something that you’ve put a potion in!”

Harry looked surprised, then he laughed softly. “Oh, silly Draco! This isn’t a love potion. It’s just a simple nutrient potion, to help you get stronger again. You can check it if you like...”

He walked over, holding out the vial to Draco, who took it suspiciously. He sniffed it carefully, swirling the remaining potion and watching it through narrowed eyes. It didn’t _look_ like a love potion of any sort...but it didn’t seem quite right for a nutrient potion, either. “Who brewed this? It seems off...”

“I did.” Harry replied, accepting the vial back. Seeing Draco’s eyes widen, he added with a smile. “It was one of Snape’s recipes. That’s probably why it doesn’t look quite right.”

Draco bit his lip, but nodded. It was true, his godfather _had_ liked to alter potions. And it did seem _similar_ to a nutrient potion. “Okay. I suppose that’s fine.”

Harry smiled and went and put the vial away before floating the bowls of stew and the plate of buttered bread slices over to the table. The bowl with the added potion settled in front of Draco and Harry passed him a deep-bowled spoon and a small plate to set bread on. Draco tentatively ate a spoonful, his eyes widening at the taste. It was _amazing_.

He looked up at Harry in surprise. “This is _really_ good. Did you make it?”

Harry smiled again and nodded happily. “Yes. I’m a pretty good cook. I baked the bread as well.” He then turned and went to the ice box, asking over his shoulder. “What would you like to drink?”

“Oh...” Draco ate another spoonful of stew while he pondered it. Finally, he asked. “Do you have lemonade? I wouldn’t mind some lemonade. Otherwise any sort of juice is fine.”

Harry swiftly sent a pitcher of lemonade and a tall glass zipping neatly to the table before he poured himself a glass of milk and joined Draco. “Of course I have lemonade. As though I wouldn’t remember you’re fond of it!” Harry rolled his eyes and Draco ignored him in favor of eating and drinking. 

He found it a little disturbing that Harry knew so much about him, but since it meant he got something he liked to drink, he wasn’t about to complain. Instead, he focused on his food and drink. The bread was just as good as the stew and Draco found himself hungrily devouring it. He couldn’t remember a time when something had tasted so good.

Harry made a soft tsking sound, drawing his attention. “Don’t eat so fast. You haven’t eaten in a few days and if you overdo it you’ll get sick.”

The gentle chiding in Harry’s tone made Draco feel uncomfortable and he immediately lost his appetite. He pushed the still-half-full bowl away from himself, muttering. “I’m not hungry any longer.”

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “You really ought to finish, you know, but I won’t push.” Harry pushed to his feet, adding. “Come on, then. I’ll show you around.”

“No.” Draco said, a little sharper than he’d intended. He was feeling strange; his belly was cramping strangely and there was a funny taste at the back of his throat. “I don’t...I don’t feel well...”

“Then you should lie down.” Harry said moving immediately around the table to Draco’s side. “Come on; I’ll help you upstairs, love. I don’t want you to fall.”

Draco started to protest, but a wave of dizziness swept over him and the next thing he knew, blackness was pulling him down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_He’s so beautiful, even when he’s angry. But I like him better like this...sleeping and peaceful. The way his platinum hair falls over his forehead; the way his pale lashes curl against his cheeks; the way his full lips are softly parted. He’s so sweet like this._

_He thinks I don’t know what he’s doing; humoring me. Silly of him. I know him better than that. I know he won’t give in quite so easily. But that’s alright. I can wait. He’ll come around. And this will all be so much easier if he’s acting complacent instead of fighting me every step of the way._

_He liked the kitchen. I could see the truth of it on his face. And my cooking. I never imagined I’d be grateful to Aunt Petunia for all the years she made me cook, but it was worth it to see his enjoyment of the dish. And to see the potion kick in...well, that was the icing on the cake. Soon...so soon..._

_I wonder if he’ll like our bedroom as much as he liked the kitchen..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco woke up feeling much better. No wave of dizziness, no weakness, no headache...all good signs. His eyes widened and he gasped, sitting bolt-upright. He was _not_ in the room he’d been in before. The bedroom around him was larger, and in better repair. The bed was made of dark wood, as was the rest of the furniture. The bedding was all a deep rich green, with accents in a pale silvery-purple. The carpet was a dark charcoal grey. The colors didn’t seem like the sort to go together, but Draco found it strangely soothing.

Or he did until the moment he realized he had to be in the master bedroom - the one Harry had said was restored. The one Harry slept in. Draco scrambled off the bed as though it had suddenly caught fire. He then stared down at himself in horror. He was wearing a pair of very-nice black, silk pajamas. Which was not what he’d been wearing when he’d been taken, or every day since. Which meant that Harry had changed Draco’s clothing, then put Draco into _his_ bed. Which was disturbing on several levels.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Draco whirled to face it, panic scrawling itself across his face as he demanded. “What?”

There was a pause, then Harry’s voice chided. “I just wondered if you were up yet, Draco. I’ve made breakfast, if you’re hungry.”

Draco took a shaky breath, then composed himself before crossing the room and opening the door. He even managed to paste a small smile on his face to greet his captor. “Yes, thank you. I’ll be down just as soon as you tell me where my clothes are so I can dress.”

Harry gave Draco a funny look. “They’re in your wardrobe, of course. Where else would they be?” He shook his head and reached out to pat Draco’s cheek. “You’re so odd sometimes, love.”

“My... _my_ wardrobe...” Draco glanced behind himself, noting the two wardrobes in the room. One had gold handles, the other had silver, so Draco took an intuitive leap and walked to the silver-handled one. “My clothes are in here?” He asked, frowning at the large wooden armoire looming in front of him.

“Yes.” Harry had stepped into the doorway, leaning casually against it. He was watching Draco with a soft smile on his lips. “Go on; nothing’s going to bite you.”

Draco curled his hands around the handles, then pulled the doors open. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the clothing inside. All of it was gorgeous; all of it was expensive; all of it was perfectly to his tastes. And there was a _lot_ of it. The wardrobe had been spelled larger inside; Draco could easily step into the center-aisle of it and move around to pick his outfit. The sheer amount was overwhelming, but the _quality_ was what sent Draco’s head spinning. The amount of money Harry had clearly spent...

“This...this is all for me?” Draco breathed as he reached out and brushed his fingers over the nearest clothing, his eyes wide and his mouth slack with shock. “Really?”

“Of course it’s yours.” Harry was still watching Draco with warm eyes and a soft smile. “You deserve the best, Draco. I plan to make sure you get it.”

Draco froze, his fingers curled into a pair of leather pants. Every muscle in his body is locked, his eyes wide and his lips softly parted, as those words slammed into him.

Draco had often been accused of being spoiled when he was younger and it was true; he had been. As the only child of both his parents, Draco had been lavished with everything he ever had even the slightest desire for. That had stopped when the Dark Lord has risen again. Draco’s whims no longer mattered; not to his parents, and not to anyone else.

When the war had ended four years earlier, Draco had briefly hoped his life would return to some semblance of normalcy. That hope had come crashing down around him when war reparations and trial fees devoured most of the Malfoy fortune. Draco had been left with two choices: work, or marry money. He had opted to do both, in the hopes of restoring the family fortune as quickly as possible. His natural charm and beauty had allowed him to swiftly climb the Ministry ranks as a diplomatic relation to several foreign Ministries, including (but not limited to) France and Italy, as he was fluent in both languages.

When Zacharias Smith had first shown an interest in Draco, Draco’s response had been wholly mercenary in nature. Zach was a pureblood in good standing (or relatively good standing, anyway) with the community, directly descended from Helga Hufflepuff herself, and wealthy. He was also passably good-looking, though not on the same level as Draco. Which actually worked in Draco’s favor. So he’d dated the man and weighed the possibility of marrying Zach.

But bloodlines aside, Zach was a Slytherin to the core. He had a cruel sense of humor that Draco enjoyed (when it wasn’t directed at himself) and a vicious streak Draco truly appreciated. And when he wanted something, he got it. And he got it on _his_ terms. Which were steep and detailed and included a large number of conditions for Draco to meet in exchange for the money to restore the Malfoy fortune and keep the Manor running smoothly for his parents.

Some of the conditions were simple, such as Draco’s required faithfulness (there would be a spell put in place during the wedding to ensure it). And Draco would be required to appear at all charity functions and Ministry events with Zach at his side. Others were stricter. All spending had to be approved by Zach, who was notoriously tight-fisted unless it was something that would reflect poorly on _him_. And Draco was required to bear a child for Zach within three years of them marrying, with a male heir being born no more than five years after the birth of their first child.

But between his family’s financial troubles and Zach’s tendency to never spend more than he absolutely had to, Draco couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been spoiled. Not even in a _little_ way.

He glanced absently down at his left hand and his mouth twisted as he pictured the gold band Zach had picked out resting there. He had disliked the rings immensely, but Zach hadn’t cared. It was _his_ money, so only _his_ opinion mattered. Draco had resigned himself to that fact, for the good of his parents and all future Malfoys. Now, Draco was starting to wonder when he’d become the sort of man who resigned himself to _anything_ , rather than doing whatever it took to get what _he_ wanted.

He looked back into the wardrobe, with all of its lovely things. Then he sank his teeth into his bottom lip, considering his options. After several moments Draco took a trembling breath in, then straightened his spine and turned, locking eyes with Harry. “What’s your price?”

Harry frowned, his eyes narrowing angrily. “There’s no _price_ , Draco. My love isn’t something to be bought or sold! It’s not just going to go away because you throw money at it!”

Draco took a half-step back, not sure what to say. Harry’s eyes widened as he realized what Draco had meant, then his whole face softened. “My poor love…” He cooed, pushing away from the doorframe and moving to stand before Draco. “Has Smith convinced you that you’re only as good as whatever he’s getting out of you? I can kill him for you, if you like.”

Draco shook his head immediately, eyes wide and mouth slack. “No! Merlin, Potter, no, I don’t want you to kill him! He didn’t convince me of anything! Everyone is valued based on what they have to offer.” With a bitter twist to his mouth, he added. “For me, that was quite a lot at one time. These days, it’s hardly anything at all.”

Harry sighed, then tenderly brushed the backs of his fingers across Draco’s cheek. “Anyone who thinks you’ve got nothing to offer is a fool. And you’re a little bit foolish as well for believing them.” Then he leaned in and brushed his mouth lightly over Draco’s, before whispering against the other man’s lips. “I’ll convince you of your worth eventually, love. I promise.”

When Harry pulled back, Draco’s eyebrows had drawn together and his hand moved without thought to press against his lips. He looked adorably baffled. Harry nodded his head towards the wardrobe. “Go on and get dressed, love, then come down to the kitchen for breakfast.”

Draco watched him go, his fingers still touching his mouth, feeling like he’d been sucked into a whirling vortex of emotion and noise and color. Harry Potter was _clearly_ unhinged; Draco had realized that within their first few seconds of conversation, before he’d even known it was Harry at all. But it also seemed that the rest of the world remained oblivious to their Savior’s break with sanity. Which meant Harry was still the much-praised, much-adored, and much-respected figure he’d always been. Far more so than Zach had ever – or would ever – be. More so than even Lucius had been at the height of his power.

And he clearly fancied himself in love with Draco. Which was patently ridiculous, of course. Harry didn’t even know him. Though he apparently _did_ know what Draco liked, if the clothing in the wardrobe was anything to go by. Draco slowly dressed in a pair of skin tight black leather pants that were apparently perfectly tailored to him – and how had Harry managed _that?_ – and a silk dress shirt in light blue. Draco tugged on socks, then stepped into a pair of black dragonhide boots and wondered what things were like back at the Manor.

He knew his parents were probably frantic, but what about Zach? Angry, Draco decided. His fiancé was likely _furious_ that Draco had disappeared. Aurors, speculative media, the Ministry up in arms…it wasn’t the sort of thing Zach would tolerate well. Draco tried to imagine Zach missing him if he never turned back up, but it didn’t work. He could well-imagine Zach’s fury over all of the time, effort, and money he’d put into their relationship going to waste. He could imagine Zach being annoyed at the inconvenience of having to find someone else to marry. Draco could even imagine Zach being disappointed that Draco’s gorgeous body was no longer gracing his bed; that Draco’s acerbic wit would no longer entertain him at boring parties. But he couldn’t imagine Zach missing _him_.

As he walked down the stairs towards the kitchen, Draco pushed his doubts and worries and concerns into a corner of his mind and locked them away. His primary concern was getting home. Anything after that, he would worry about then.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_If I could get my hands around Smith’s throat, I would happily kill him with my bare hands. My poor love, so convinced of his lack-of-worth…and Smith, just adding to it! The bastard better pray he doesn’t find himself on the business end of my wand. Draco’s so much more than people see!_

_But it’s alright. Once he realizes the truth, we’ll show the world together. Once everyone sees what I see, they’ll adore him. Just as I do._

_The look on his face when he saw his clothes, though! I wish I’d had a camera. The uncertainty and the wonder…how long has it been since he was properly spoiled? I’m probably one of the few people who knows the truth about the Malfoy money. And clearly Smith is too self-centered to treat Draco the way he deserves to be treated. But that’s alright as well. I’ll show him just how much I love him and just how perfect his life with me will be._

_Slytherins need to be shown these things, after all. They can’t just take them on faith. So I’ll show him how perfect it will be and then he’ll realize just how happy he’ll be with me. And then he’ll fall in love with me for rescuing him from Smith, just like he ought to have loved me for saving him from the Fiendfyre. But no matter; better late than never._

_Soon he’ll be bound to me in every way possible and it will be perfect. Just like it should be…_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco had heard that people who were held captive lost track of time. He supposed that was true, but only if you were captive for a _long_ time. Months, at the very least. Draco had been captive for ten days. Ten long, slightly-boring, days. After the first day he woke up in Harry’s bedroom, Draco ate breakfast and lunch alone, though both were set out for him. By the house elf he had yet to meet, he was sure. Dinner was served when Harry returned from work each day and was the only meal Draco ate _with_ his captor.

Draco spent his days basically alone, wandering the gloomy, cavernous house he was trapped in. Though Harry spent time with him in the evenings after dinner, telling Draco about his day at work and dropping little tidbits about Draco’s parents, Draco retired to bed alone each evening and awoke just as alone each morning. He had no idea where Harry was sleeping, only that it was not in the master bedroom. Draco had actually begun to relax, growing quite used to the house and Harry’s clingy presence whenever his captor was home.

The _pop_ of an item appearing on the table beside him pulled Draco out of the book he was reading, though really there wasn’t much difference between the dark and gloomy parlor and the setting of any of Edgar Allan Poe’s many stories. Still, Draco enjoyed Poe’s work and he was momentarily annoyed to have been jarred from one of his favorite pieces by the morbid, depressing man in question. Glancing back at the words he’d just read, Draco couldn’t stop a wry smile from curving his lips.

_‘Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,_  
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.  
'Surely,' said I, 'surely that is something at my window lattice:  
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-  
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-  
'Tis the wind and nothing more.' 

Draco shook his head, dispelling the eerie chill brought by the timing of the gift popping into existence beside him. There was no way Harry - or his house elf, who Draco assumed had made the actual delivery - could have known what he was reading. It was just a coincidence.

Draco reached for the green-wrapped package with its silver bow. Harry had taken to giving him small gifts - a journal, a deck of Tarot cards, a Quidditch magazine - every day. He was curious as to what he’d been sent today. The gifts were always simple, but thoughtful. Things Harry thought would help Draco pass the time, or entertain him. Draco had begun to look forward to receiving them.

So, with eager fingers, Draco tugged the ribbon from the package and carefully unwrapped the paper. Then he pulled the lid off the box and peeked inside. His breath caught in his lungs, his heart stuttering unevenly in his chest. “No...” He breathed, eyes as wide as they would go. “No, he _wouldn’t_ have...”

With a hand that trembled ever-so-faintly, Draco reached out and snagged the thin gold chain coiled on the puffy cotton cushioning the contents of the small box. He lifted it slowly, bringing with it the small, walnut-sized golden ball dangling from the chain. The Snitch was at rest, its delicate wings wrapped around it so closely they were practically invisible. And Draco told himself that it _wasn’t_ ; that it _couldn’t be..._

But as he raised the tiny ball-turned-pendant to eye level, the words carved into it seemed to scream the truth at him. 

_‘I open at the close.’_

Draco nearly dropped it in surprise, but his fingers tightened on the chain instead which he was immensely grateful for. He didn’t know if his heart could take dropping an iconic piece of Wizarding history. Tales of the Snitch - and its role in the final defeat of the Dark Lord - had circulated widely during the time after the war that was commonly referred to as “The Restoration”. Draco couldn’t believe Harry had given it to him, and in a form that was clearly meant to be worn.

A huge part of him wanted to put it back in the box and pretend he hadn’t gotten it. Another - slightly smaller - part of him wanted to put it back in the box and personally hand it back to Harry with a _‘Thanks, but no thanks.’_ to soften the rejection.

And a very small - but incredible insistent - part of Draco was demanding he put the necklace on and be _very fucking grateful_ because, really, the thing was _priceless!_ And it wasn’t as though there were people lining up to offer Draco priceless things.

He hesitated for several long moments, knowing that his reaction to this gift was going to set a tone. If Harry came home and the necklace was in its box, then he’d know Draco wasn’t yet amenable to him. If Harry came home and it was around Draco’s throat, it would signal that Draco was open to any further advances Harry might make.

Draco let the ball settle into the palm of the hand not holding the chain, analyzing the weight of the little thing as though it might hold the answer to what he should do. Draco thought again of Zach...and of the hideous gold wedding band he didn’t really want to wear, and the cornsilk linens he hated, and all of the conditions he had to meet. Then he thought of Harry...with madness glinting in his eyes but gentleness in his touch, and the lovely wardrobe full of clothing, and the thoughtful gifts he got every day. And of the beautiful, meaningful, ridiculously-valuable-in-several-ways necklace he was holding.

In the end, the choice was simpler than it should have been.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_I wonder what I will be coming home to tonight. A coldly aloof Draco? A furious-at-my-presumption Draco? A delighted and grateful Draco? I know what I’m hoping for, but my love is anything but predictable._

_I wonder if he’ll make the connection? He’s clever, but..._

_No, I don’t think he will. That’s alright; I’d rather he didn’t. I like having the element of surprise on my side, after all. And, when the time is right, and he learns the truth..._

_Well, I look forward to seeing his face._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco dressed for dinner with care. He donned black dress slacks that were just snug enough to be enticing; he checked his ass in the mirror to be sure. Then he carefully selected a snug black shirt in a slinky, shimmery material that contrasted beautifully with his fair skin and hair. It also made the perfect backdrop for the golden shine of the Snitch, suspended on the fine chain that was now clasped securely around Draco’s neck. Draco debated shoes for a moment, but decided he didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, so he opted for the more-casual barefoot look.

Taking a deep breath and reminding himself that this was his choice - the best way to get everything he wanted, while forfeiting the least for it - Draco headed down to the kitchen, knowing Harry would likely be home.

He walked into the cavernous room and was a bit disappointed not to see Harry. That made it harder. Here he was, struggling to keep to his decision, and Harry was absent. Thus giving Draco plenty of time to second-guess himself and potentially change his mind. Draco bit his lower lip, then walked over to the fireplace and let the heat wash over him. His hand came up, fingers absently fiddling with the golden Snitch and its chain, as his mind wandered.

A soft sound from behind him had Draco turning instinctively, his fingers still tangled in the slender gold links while the ball swayed, bumping gently against his knuckles. Harry was looking cross and it was clear he hadn’t yet noticed Draco’s presence in the room. He was hanging his cloak up, muttering darkly under his breath, and his magic seemed to spark and crackle around him. Draco’s breath hitched in his chest; he could feel Harry’s power - dark and dangerous - from across the room.

Harry’s head came up at the soft intake of breath, his eyes piercing as they locked on the necklace Draco was still fiddling with. “You’re wearing it.” It came out a little sharper that Draco was expecting and the look in Harry’s face was nearly unreadable.

His mouth moved silently for a moment, then Draco managed weakly. “I...yes. Thank you. It’s...it’s very lovely. You shouldn’t have, really...”

Harry’s eyes narrowed and he took a vaguely threatening step closer to the blonde. “You say I shouldn’t have, Draco, and yet you’re wearing it. Just as you’ve been wearing the clothes I bought for you. Just as you sleep in the bedroom I designed _for us_. Why?”

“I....” Draco was shaking and he cleared his throat to keep that quaver from affecting his voice. It didn’t work as well as he’d hoped it would. His voice still shimmied faintly when he admitted. “I don’t know.”

A speculative light shone in Harry’s eyes and he swiftly crossed the room to Draco’s side. “I think you’ve already made your choice.” Harry murmured, his voice a velvety purr. “You’re just afraid of it. You’re afraid of _me_.”

Draco’s back straightened and his chin came up, stubborn defiance making color blossom in his cheeks. “I am _not_ afraid of you, Potter!”

Harry shrugged, clearly disbelieving. “Sorry, love, but I don’t think that’s true.” He gave Draco a patronizing smile and added. “It’s alright, you know. That you’re afraid of me. Slytherins aren’t exactly known for their courage, now are they?”

Draco was practically bristling with indignation now. “ _I am not afraid of you!”_ He spat, his hands curling into fists when Harry continued to look unconvinced. “I’m not afraid of you, _or_ of my choice! I’m _not!”_

Harry quirked an eyebrow and smirked, purring darkly. “Prove it.”

Draco didn’t hesitate. He reached up with both hands, gripped all of that lovely tousled hair, and dragged Harry’s mouth down to his. Harry remained passive for all of ten seconds, then Draco was being shoved against the nearest counter while Harry devoured his mouth. Draco moaned softly, his head falling back submissively, as Harry’s hands fisted in the slinky fabric clinging to his skin. Harry’s mouth moved over the now-exposed line of Draco’s jaw, then he nipped and licked his way down the pale, smooth, elegant column of flesh that was Draco’s throat.

The edge of the marble countertop was digging painfully into the small of Draco’s back, but Draco couldn’t bring himself to care. All that mattered was the heat of Harry’s body pressing into him, and the delicious feel of Harry’s mouth on his skin, and the feel of those strong, calloused hands working their way under his clothing to touch skin. Draco’s own hands scrambled against the edge of the counter, seeking purchase, as Harry’s fingers ghosted over his ribs.

“Oh…oh, fuck…” Draco groaned throatily as Harry pressed the heated length of his desire against the blonde’s hip. His own hips arched as Harry’s thigh pressed between his, finding the undeniable proof of Draco’s own arousal.

“I knew you’d come round eventually.” Harry purred in Draco’s ear, his hands settling on Draco’s hips as he thrust against the other man, just firmly enough to be maddening. “Now, love…” Harry’s tongue traced the curve of Draco’s ear, then he whispered. “Time for supper.”

Draco nearly fell over when Harry stepped back, releasing him suddenly. He looked up, panting and flushed and needy, at Harry. “Wh-what? Are you _fucking joking_ , Potter?”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Not in the slightest, Draco. We’re going to eat, then we’re going to go upstairs to _our_ bedroom...” Harry smiled turned wicked, his eyes burning, and he finished in a tone that was both threat and promise. “And then I’m going to fuck you while you wear nothing but that Snitch around your throat.”

Draco’s heart stopped, then started again at double-speed. He honestly didn’t know if he was eager, or afraid...but he followed Harry to the table anyway.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_He’s so perfect...and he has no idea._

_He did, once-upon-a-time. He knew his own value and he wore that pride, that confidence, that arrogance, like it was a crown proclaiming him royalty. And I found that endearing and aggravating in equal measure. But this Draco...wounded, jaded, and uncertain...he’s more precious than words can explain. I intend to get the arrogant prince back, in time, but for now I cherish his uncertainty._

_The way he averted his eyes when I undressed us both. The way he tried to keep silent until I told him how much I loved the sounds he made. The way he struggled to hold back - to remain in control - until his passion and need grew too strong to fight._

_I love the way he clung to me - long limbs, sharp nails, and sweat-slicked skin. I love the way his eyes went dark as his desire peaked. I love the way he is currently curled up on his side, his cheek pressed to my heart, letting me pet his tousled hair and rapidly-cooling skin._

_I love that he has no knowledge of what he’s just done; of what we have just done. Soon...soon I will tell him everything. And then he’ll be mine for good._

_For now, I force the smirk from my lips and pull him closer, satisfied in more ways than one._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco wondered, upon waking, if Harry would let him go now. Not that he really wanted to leave anymore; not when leaving meant dealing with Zach. And his parents. And the press. But it would all need to be done sooner or later, and Draco honestly just wanted it all out of the way. His hand came up, absently stroking the Snitch, and he decided to see if Harry had gone to work or stayed home. Technically Potter should have off...but then, he’d been working almost every day, regardless, because of Draco’s “disappearance”.

So Draco stood and stretched, smiling slightly over the pleasant soreness he felt. Then he padded over to his wardrobe and tugged out a black silk dressing gown. He put it on, tying the sash fairly loosely. It was daringly short, just long enough to cover his bits, and front gaped open slightly due to the halfway-tie-job Draco had done, baring a fair amount of his pale chest and stomach. Uncaring - because, really, Harry had seen it all the night before and Draco _was_ gorgeous - Draco left the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen. If Harry wasn’t home, Draco decided he would eat and then take a book up to bed. He was in a lounging sort of mood.

He was nearly to the landing that held the large, covered portrait when the door at the base of the stairs opened and a cheerful voice called out. “Hey, mate, we’re here!”

Draco froze as Ron Weasley - followed by Hermione Granger - stepped into the little hallway, bringing with them a burst of frigid air and swirling snow. He held his breath, terrified to move, as Hermione laughed and called out as well. “Harry! Are you in the kitchen again?”

Suddenly Harry was hurrying up the hallway, his eyes wide. “What are you two doing here?” He demanded, clearly not pleased to see his best friends. “I told you I wasn’t up for guests!”

“Well, yes, but you haven’t been out of this gloomy old place in almost two weeks, excusing work.” Hermione finished unwinding her scarf and shook the snow out of her hair, then stepped up to kiss Harry’s cheek. “We can’t help worrying about you, Harry. Isolation isn’t healthy.”

Harry’s eyes flicked momentarily to the stairs, widening further when they spotted Draco before flitting quickly back to his friends. “I promise I’ll explain everything soon, guys, but for now I need you to go. This just isn’t a good time.”

The steel in Harry’s voice had Hermione’s mouth trembling as she quickly stepped back. Ron frowned, and said. “Look, Harry, if something is wrong...”

“Nothing is wrong.” Harry snapped, clearly growing agitated. “I just...look, I _promise_ to explain it all soon, alright? Just...not now.”

Draco winced, seeing the madness creeping into Harry’s eyes – knowing what to look for, Draco could see it easily. Harry’s carefully-worn mask of Hero, Savior, and Golden Boy was cracking. And, judging by the wariness on Hermione’s face, it was clear his clever friend was seeing it, too. It was also clear that she didn’t know _what_ she was seeing; only that something wasn’t right. Draco pondered his choices for just a few seconds, but in the end it was simple – Harry was useless to him if he was locked in St. Mungo’s because of his madness.

“I apologize.” Draco purred as he began moving down the stairs again, not bothering to tighten the sash of his robe or cover more of himself. “I’m afraid I’m the reason for Harry’s unsociable mood just now.”

Ron’s eyes widened, then he turned a funny shade of green and looked away. Hermione’s eyes were riveted on the Snitch Draco was wearing. Harry looked between his friends and Draco cautiously, then asked in a strange voice. “Draco…what are you doing?”

Knowing he needed to help Harry stabilize in front of his friends, Draco sauntered up to his new lover and tipped his face up. Harry didn’t hesitate; he pressed a quick but firm kiss to Draco’s lips. Draco smiled at Harry, then turned to face the others. “I apologize for the confusion. Harry has been kind enough to let me stay here while I worked out a few things regarding my soon-to-be-former engagement. But as I asked him not to tell anyone – and he, of course, was respecting my privacy – it must have seemed as though he were acting oddly.”

Hermione swallowed hard, her eyes moving rapidly between Harry’s face – soft now and loving – and Draco’s casual smile. Then she looked at the necklace again and whispered. “That’s…that’s _the_ Snitch, isn’t it?”

Draco’s fingers went to it and he smirked. “As a matter of fact, Granger, it is. Lovely, isn’t it? Harry gave it to me yesterday.” He stroked it lightly and added. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions for Harry, but we were about to have breakfast together before I have to go handle things with Zach and my parents. If you could come and talk to him a bit later, perhaps…?”

“Yeah; later.” Ron finally spoke, sounding a bit strained and still not looking at Draco. “Come on, Hermione. We can talk to Harry...later. You know, after…after Malfoy goes. Come on.”

Hermione didn’t have much choice but to go, as Ron was tugging on her arm with considerable force and desperation. But she looked suspiciously between the two men, warning. “I expect a _full_ explanation for this later, Harry!”

Then Harry’s friends were gone – back out into the cold and snow – and Draco was shoved against a wall while Harry devoured his mouth. When they broke for air long minutes later, Harry panted. “I thought you might change your mind.”

Draco nodded slowly. “I might have, if they’d shown up yesterday evening rather than this morning.” He admitted this shamelessly and without remorse. “But as of just now, I’ve got no reason for that. And you’re of little use to me if anyone else realizes how mad you are, so I really _had_ to step in, didn’t I? I think it went fairly well, considering.”

Harry grinned, green eyes dancing and his insanity clear to see. “I’d have to agree, love.” He pressed a scatter of light kisses to Draco’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose, then whispered. “Tell me that you love me, Draco. I’d like to hear it.”

Draco hesitated, uncertainty twisting his haughty features into something softer and more child-like. He had professed his love for Zach, because it was expected…but Harry wanted him to _mean_ it. And Draco wasn’t really sure he did. He wasn’t sure he even knew what love felt like. “Harry, I…” Draco trailed off, not sure what to say now that he’d opened his mouth.

Harry sighed, looking vexed. “Honestly, Draco! After everything I’ve done for you, is it so much to ask that you love me?”

Draco frowned. “It doesn’t work that way! I…yes, alright. I’ve become _fond_ of you. And you’re certainly not hard on the eyes. I enjoyed last night quite a lot.” Draco shook his head, nudging his way out from between Harry and the wall. “But you don’t just get to demand that I love you! _If_ I decide I feel that way, then I’ll tell you. Until then, you’re just going to have to be happy with what you’ve got!”

“Oh, I’m quite thrilled with what I’ve got.” Harry growled, snagging Draco by the arm and pulling him close. “I’ve got _you_ , for one thing. I’ve got you in my bed, in my home, in my arms…” Harry leaned in and nuzzled Draco’s neck, then murmured darkly in his ear. “Do you know what else I’ve got?”

Draco shivered as Harry’s madness-twisted-magic slid over his skin and managed breathlessly. “A severe issue with mental stability?”

Harry laughed and the sound was wild and thrilling, then he grinned down at Draco. “Well, that too. But you don’t seem to mind it much, do you love?”

“No, not much.” Draco admitted, his face softening. “You are mad _for me_ , after all. It’s a bit hard to hold that against you.”

Harry held Draco against him with an arm around his narrow waist and brushed the back of his free hand against Draco’s cheek. “You’re so lovely. I cannot wait to see you glowing with pregnancy.” He pressed a kiss to Draco’s forehead and added. “You’ll look so gorgeous once your belly starts to round…”

Draco wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he did his best to laugh it off. “Yes, well. I’m pretty focused on my career just now. Maybe in a couple of years…” He trailed off, seeing the amusement on Harry’s face, and bit out in annoyance. “What, pray tell, is so amusing?”

“You, my love.” Harry pressed another kiss to Draco’s forehead, adding. “You’re already pregnant, pet. I imagine you’ll want to confirm with a Healer while you’re out and about today. It should make ending things with Smith easier as well.”

Draco shoved out of Harry’s arms, his chest heaving. “ _What?_ ” He demanded, backing away from the other man. “No! You’re…what? How could I be…I haven’t taken a potion! I would have…to…”

Draco trailed off, his mouth moving soundlessly and his eyes blank, as he recalled the “nutrient” potion Harry had been lacing his food with. Scrambling for some semblance of sense, he protested. “It would take more than a few doses! More than one night together! It…it’s too soon! Too fast…”

Harry shook his head, but wisely kept his distance; Draco was upset and Harry didn’t want to spook him or startle him into violence. “I told you it was one of Snape’s recipes, love. You _know_ they’re always better than the original.” His lips curved upwards slightly and he added. “I know you’re in shock, but you’ll get past that soon enough. And then you’ll be happy again.”

Tears stung Draco’s eyes and he hissed. “I am _pregnant_ and _unwed!_ Do you have _any idea_ of what you’ve done, Potter? Do you have even the slightest clue? My parents…” Draco choked on his tears, his hands balling into fists. “You had no right!”

“I think you’re forgetting something.” Harry’s voice was ice-cold and it chilled Draco to his soul. “I’ve got the right to do whatever I want, remember? Who’s going to say no? Who’s going to stop me? Or punish me? You? I don’t think so. The Ministry? Not a chance. Your parents? They’d be dead if they tried. You are _mine_ , Draco. In every way, to do with as I please. I’ve _earned_ you.”

Draco swallowed hard, tears still dampening his cheeks, and whispered. “I’m not a _prize_ , you know. I’m a human being.”

“But one who can clearly be bought and sold, if the price is high enough.” Harry snapped cruelly. “Didn’t Smith buy you, after all? And haven’t I done the same? So you’re _mine_. My reward, for all the things I sacrificed and lost.”

Draco wanted to argue; he wanted to protest. But the sad truth was, Draco _had_ let Zach buy him. And though he’d _liked_ Zach, to an extent, it had been almost-purely business. And hadn’t he let Harry win him away with things? It wasn’t his fault he’d been raised to be mercenary…

But Draco knew that wasn’t all it was. He had come to care for Harry. For the way the brunette looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world; something to be cherished and valued and taken care of. For the way Harry touched him, with heat and desire and need. He had even begun to find Harry’s madness endearing. The way it made Harry’s green eyes shine; the way it twisted Harry’s smile; the way it tainted Harry’s words…it was oddly flattering and made everything in Draco feel soft and warm. It made Draco want to pet that dark, messy hair and protect the shattered hero from everyone who would never understand.

Because darkness begets darkness and madness is as contagious as any other disease. Harry’s mind and soul had been touched; tainted; infected. The Dark Lord had broken more lives – and more minds – than Draco cared to count, but Harry had seemed impervious to it all. Clearly that hadn’t _actually_ been the case. Harry was just better at hiding it than most. And Draco _understood_.

He understood because he had felt the Dark Lord probe his mind, testing the shields his aunt had taught him to construct while _she_ poked around in there. And he knew what it was like, to feel a madness that wasn’t your own; the way it clung to you afterwards, like a tangible thing you couldn’t scrub off no matter how hard you tried. And while he couldn’t imagine living every day with the Dark Lord in his mind, he _could_ imagine how that madness could wrap around you until it was as much your own as it was the other person’s. Something inescapable; something permanent.

So as much as he wanted to rant and rave about being impregnated without his permission, he had _known_ Harry wasn’t sane. And he’d trusted the potion he was fed anyway. He’d slept with Harry anyway. He had smiled and bluffed his way through a chance to get away from Harry; to return to some semblance of the life he’d had before this. Because he had chosen. He, Draco Malfoy, had willingly chosen Harry Potter, with all of his madness. What right did he have to try to pick and choose which parts of that madness were acceptable?

But he was _not_ for sale. This hadn’t been about pretty clothes or expensive things; not at the core of it. It hadn’t been the monetary value of the Snitch that had swayed Draco; it had been the emotion behind it. It had been the devotion, the love, the need. It had been the fact that, for the first time since he’d been Marked, Draco had felt like someone valued _him_. His wit, his charm, his intelligence…but also his ambition, his snark, and his moodiness. Because no matter what Draco had thrown at Harry, it hadn’t changed the way Harry felt about him. He wanted _all_ of Draco; the good and the bad.

And Harry knew better than most just how much bad there was.

But it didn’t matter. He still wanted Draco; still thought of Draco as worthy. Hell, he viewed Draco as a fitting reward for saving the world. And Draco wasn’t going to just stand there and let Harry think that he wasn’t seeing anything but galleons when he looked at him.

“You could choose to never buy me anything ever again and it wouldn’t matter.” Draco said softly, but as firmly as he could manage when his voice wanted to tremble. “You could refuse to give me a single knut and I wouldn’t care. You could take back the things you’ve already given me and it wouldn’t change a single thing.” Raising his chin, Draco finished solemnly. “So long as you still look at me the way you have since you brought me here. It wasn’t _things_ that won me over, Harry. It was _you_.”

Harry’s lips curved, the angry lines of his face smoothing out, and he murmured. “Say it, Draco. I just need to hear you say it.”

And this time, Draco could. Without hesitation. “I love you.”

Harry walked over and grasped the Snitch, bringing the little golden ball up between them. Then he lowered his mouth, parted his lips slightly, and kissed the cool metal. Draco’s eyes widened as he remembered more of the stories that had circulated during The Restoration; tales of the _ring_ hidden inside the Snitch. Though the stories were vague, and Draco had never fully understood the import of the ring in Harry’s march to his own death, he did understand the connotation on the _now_.

The Snitch opened beneath Harry’s lips and the Gryffindor tipped something out into his palm. The Snitch closed again and Harry let it fall to rest against Draco’s chest once more. But Draco didn’t care. His eyes were locked on the gleam of silver and green in Harry’s hand. Draco’s heart was beating so fast he felt like it might explode. Thankfully, Harry didn’t keep him waiting.

He held up the slender band of metal. It was a beautiful, full-carat, round brilliant-cut diamond of the highest quality. It was set into a thick band of twisted platinum, edged on either side with a row of tiny, deep-green emeralds. It ought to have been a feminine ring; it ought to have made Draco’s mouth twist in distaste over being given something clearly meant for a _woman_. But it didn’t, because despite what anyone else might have thought, the ring was perfectly suited to the man it was being given to.

It made Draco feel warm and bright inside, because the ring _screamed_ “Draco Malfoy” in large, capital, bold, underlined letters. And it warmed Draco’s heart that Harry _knew_ that.

Harry smiled at Draco and asked. “So, what do you say, love? Make the fact that you’re mine all official before you go tell Smith to jump in a lake?”

Draco couldn’t keep the wicked grin from curving his lips as he held out his left hand to Harry. “I suppose we can, Harry. Though I suspect telling him I’m pregnant will be nearly more effective than the ring.”

Harry laughed, delighted, and slid the ring onto Draco’s finger. Then he slid a hand into Draco’s hair and tugged his fiancé in for a kiss. When they broke apart again, Draco was flushed and panting. Harry smiled and said. “Let’s go eat breakfast. As you pointed out, you’ve got things to deal with today. And I’ve got Ron and Hermione to fend off, plus the rest of the Weasleys.”

Draco nodded; there _was_ a lot to be done.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Everything is going just as I’d hoped. Draco is mine, as he was always meant to be. And he sees it now, just as I’d known he would. How could he not, after all? It’s so obvious. We’re perfect for each other, in every single way._

_And now we’ll tell everyone, and get married. And Draco will move into our home and have our child and we’ll be a perfect, happy family. It will be just like a fairytale. Isn’t every hero entitled to a fairytale ending? Well, I’ve claimed mine now. Just a few more little details to iron out..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco Apparated directly into the Manor’s entrance hall as soon as Harry lifted the ward that had trapped him in his London home. They had discussed many things over breakfast, including the history of the house Draco had been held captive in and what they would tell people. Draco was adamant about keeping Harry’s facade of sanity in place. He knew Harry had expected him to go to a Healer first, but Draco saw no reason why that couldn’t wait. Dealing with Zach was more important.

Draco had barely had a moment to glance around himself before his mother was rushing down the stairs, her eyes wild. “Draco! Darling, where have you _been?_ Do you have any idea how frantic I’ve been?”

Draco allowed her to hug him, kissing her cheek dutifully. Then he smiled wanly and said. “It’s a long story, Mother, but I’ll explain it all, I promise. I’d just rather do it only once.”

Narcissa nodded. “Of course, darling. I understand.” She clasped both of his hands in her own and gave a squeeze, then froze. Draco held his breath as his mother dragged his left hand up and the diamond caught the sunlight, tossing little rainbows around. “Oh my...”

“Ah, yeah.” Draco gave a stuttering laugh, feeling a bit nervous all of a sudden. “That’s sort of part of what I need to explain...”

“Well.” Narcissa cleared her throat, her eyes widening as Lucius and Zacharias appeared in the hallway. She immediately dropped Draco’s hand and murmured. “Best keep that out of sight, at least for a few minutes, darling.”

Draco debated it for a moment, then shrugged; he didn’t really care. Zach was looking annoyed as he approached, admonishing. “You had better have a good explanation for disappearing, Draco! I don’t enjoy having my name splashed all over the media. Speculation has been _insane_ while you’ve been gone and I cannot claim to be pleased.”

Zach leaned in for their standard greeting-kiss, but Draco jerked away, turning his head and pulling back before their lips could meet. When Zach inhaled sharply, Draco said coldly. “I find myself not pleased either, Zach. And I’ve got no desire to touch you, so kindly keep your distance.”

Lucius spoke now and his voice was tight. “Draco, what has gotten into you? Where, exactly, have you been?”

“I was away, thinking and sorting some things out.” Draco replied, is tone far more respectful as he addressed his father rather than Zach. “I’m sorry to have worried you, but I needed time and space. I had a lot to consider.” Draco made an all-encompassing gesture with his hands.

Zacharias gasped, then grabbed Draco’s left wrist in a bruising grip. “Draco, what in the name of Merlin is the meaning of this?” Zach’s voice was a cold hiss, but somehow it wasn’t intimidating.

Jerking his arm out of Zach’s vice-like hold, Draco snapped. “It’s an engagement ring. I should think that would have been obvious.” Draco held his hand up, letting the ring catch the sunlight again, and smiled fondly at it. “My fiancé has exquisite taste, wouldn’t you say?”

The fury in Zach’s face was intense. “ _I_ am your fiancé, Draco! We have an agreement!” He took a threatening step forward and added. “If you back out…”

“I’ve got no need to back out.” Draco retorted, looking smug. “The contract is void.” Seeing the confusion on Zach’s face, Draco purred. “I’m pregnant, my dear Zacharias. And the child is _not_ yours.”

Zach paled, then disgust washed over his face. “You filthy little whore! Who have you been slutting around with, then? You’d best hope the bloody bastard can handle your spoiled arse, Malfoy, lest you find yourself discarded and without two Knuts to rub together!”

“Oh don’t worry about me, Zach.” Draco’s smug look turned into a cocky smirk. “My fiancé adores spoiling me. He bought everything I’m currently wearing, in fact.” Draco had on another set of black leather trousers, the dragonhide boots, a long-sleeved button-up in eggplant purple, and a light grey cashmere jumper.

When Zach’s eyes had finished taking in the outfit, Draco added casually. “He also gave me _this_.” Then he reached under his jumper and tugged on the gold chain, drawing out the Snitch. Seeing the shock and disbelief on Zach’s face, Draco added. “Lovely, isn’t it? I personally love the way he hid my engagement ring inside it until he was ready to propose. Watching him kiss the Snitch, I of course realized what was about to happen. It was remarkably romantic.”

Lucius was sputtering and Zach seemed frozen in place, but Narcissa was beaming. “Oh, Draco, really? I had a feeling Harry knew more than he let on when he was here discussing your disappearance!” She moved closer to her son again and pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks. “I’m a bit surprised, of course, but you know how I feel about that young man. He makes you happy?”

Draco smiled at his mother, letting his face soften. “Happier than I’d ever thought possible.” He admitted this shamelessly. “Harry wants me to bring you and Father over for dinner soon, but not until more of the house is restored. But maybe we could all go out to dinner later this week.”

Narcissa beamed at her son. “I think that sounds lovely.” Then she turned cold eyes on the man her son had nearly married, much to her displeasure, though she’d understood why Draco had been willing to make the sacrifice. Harry was a _much_ better choice, as far as she was concerned. “I think, Mr. Smith, that it would be best if you left. Clearly there’s no reason for you to still be here.”

Zacharias stiffened, his brown eyes narrowing. “The fuck if I’m going to leave before I get a bloody explanation for this! I have a _contract_ that Potter has voided and I’d like to know precisely what my solicitors are suing him for!”

“Oh yes, Zach. By all means, sue Harry Potter.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Then you’ll not only look like a jilt and a cuckold, you’ll also look like a jealous, petty arse.”

Zach snarled something crude and offensive, then turned on his heel and Disapparated with a pop. Draco paused for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. “Well, if he sues, he’s a bloody fool. Everyone knows Harry is untouchable.”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed and he studied his son intently. Finally, after a long moment, he asked. “And by extension, Draco, yourself? Do you really believe it will work that way?”

Draco’s lips curved upwards. “Honestly, Father, once Harry announces publicly that I am the love of his life, his fiancé, and carrying his child...only a complete idiot would come after me or mine.” Turning back to his mother, he gestured to the parlor and said softly. “If you’d like, we can sit down and I’ll explain as best I can, Mother. I’m sure you have questions.”

After they were seated - and Narcissa had the house elves bring tea - Draco began to explain the story he and Harry had worked out over breakfast. “I didn’t intend to disappear, you understand. When Harry approached me, I was completely floored. But he insisted he couldn’t just stand by and watch me marry Zach without telling me he’d been in love with me for years. Ever since the end of the war, really.”

Narcissa gasped softly, her eyes widening. “That long? Why hadn’t he said anything sooner?” She was a little surprised, but not displeased; it was heartening to know that Harry’s feelings for Draco were apparently lasting.

“He didn’t know if I would react well. Considering our past...” Draco trailed off and looked away; his voice grew thoughtful as his eyes locked on the window and the garden beyond. “When he told me...well, I didn’t quite know what to do. I was engaged to Zach, and there was the contract...but Harry was so sweet and open. I knew I needed time to think, _away from Zach_. So Harry opened his home to me and…well, yes. Things sort of progressed.”

“Clearly, as you claim to be with child.” Lucius’ voice was cool, but Draco could hear the difference in it from earlier; he was willing to hear Draco out. “How did that come about?”

“Ah, well. That was Harry’s idea.” Draco shrugged, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. “He thought it would help with ending things with Zach. We, ah…I’m only _just_ pregnant.”

“Well, then you two can make things official before you lose your waist.” Narcissa smiled fondly at Draco, shaking her head. “You don’t want to look all rounded in your photos.”

Draco bit his lip, but couldn’t keep the grin off his face. His mother was wonderfully amusing and Draco was pleased she was being so supportive. “No, I don’t. And I know Harry doesn’t want to wait. He’s sort of insisting we move things along as fast as possible. Which I don’t mind at all.”

“And just look at how nicely he’s pampering you!” Narcissa cooed, reaching out and smoothing Draco’s new jumper, then touching the Snitch-turned-pendant lightly with two fingertips. “He’s truly a gentleman, not like that Smith boy. I know you were doing it for all of us, Draco, but I never approved of him. He just wasn’t right for you.”

“Yes, well.” Lucius cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I suppose, as far as our image goes, you could do far worse than Potter for a husband. And he has funds, though I’m sure they don’t rival Zach’s…”

“Actually, they do.” Narcissa’s smile was calculating now; the look in her eyes was shrewd. “Not only did the Potters have money, but my cousin Sirius did as well. And, according to my sister, Harry inherited all of Sirius’ money upon the man’s death.”

“And his house.” Draco added. “That’s the house we’re renovating. It’s sort of gloomy right now, but it’s got potential.”

Narcissa looked surprised, then nodded. “Yes, of course. Grimmauld Place. ‘Dromeda might have mentioned that at some point, in fact. You know, of course, that he’s godfather to her grandson – your cousin, Draco – Teddy Lupin.”

“Yes, I remember.” Draco nodded, then shrugged. “Teddy’s a sweet enough child, and family besides, so it’s no trouble to have him around. I told Harry we can make him up his own room for when he comes to visit from now on. And of course we’ll have permanent guest rooms for Aunt Andromeda, and you and Father.”

Lucius – who was more than willing to align with whoever would best-benefit his family – finally seemed to come round. “I suppose, if you are set on this course Draco, that we will just have to adapt.”

Draco smirked; Harry would be pleased.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hermione, if you don’t calm down and stop hollering at me, I’m not going to explain anything.” Harry snapped after listening to Hermione rant for nearly half an hour after arriving with Ron. Draco had been gone for three hours already and Harry was starting to get antsy.

“We’re just confused, mate.” Ron placed a soothing hand over Hermione’s; they were seated side-by-side on a sofa that had seen better days, but they were both used to the state of Grimmauld Place. “I mean, one moment Malfoy is missing and assumed kidnapped and the next he’s here, practically starkers…it’s a bit to take in.”

“I tried to tell people he might have just taken off; that he might have just needed space.” Harry pointed out, rolling his eyes. “Can I help it if everyone assumed the worst?”

Hermione sighed, tugging on one of the errant curls that had escaped from her bun. “But Harry, how did this even happen? I mean, isn’t Malfoy engaged to Zacharias Smith?”

“Not anymore.” Harry replied, looking instantly smug and satisfied. “Now he’s engaged to me. Oh, which reminds me…Ron, you’ll be my best man, right?”

“Oh, ah…well…” Ron stuttered for a moment, then sighed in defeat and nodded. “You know I will, even if I think you’re nutters for marrying Malfoy.”

Hermione’s mouth moved for a few moments, then she asked weakly. “How did this all happen, Harry? I just don’t understand…”

Harry shrugged. “I decided I couldn’t bear to see him marry that little rat, Smith, so I told him I’ve been in love with him for years. He was more receptive than I’d hoped and wanted some time to think, so I let him stay here while he did. Things went from there.”

Hermione just stared at Harry after he gave that brief answer, as though it were any sort of answer at all, then she demanded. “And now you’re just suddenly engaged?”

“And pregnant.” Draco’s voice had Harry’s head snapping around, a wide grin forming on his lips. Draco walked over and leaned down to drop a light kiss on Harry’s mouth. “The Healer confirmed it, love. We’ve got another appointment in a couple of months to check on things.”

Harry tugged Draco down onto his lap, nuzzling the blonde’s neck. “That’s great, love. How did your parents take the news? Your mum was thrilled, wasn’t she?”

Draco chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Yes, quite. Enough for everyone, I think. Father wasn’t happy to start, but he’s come round. Zach had a fit. He might try to sue you, but I don’t know. I can’t quite decide if he’s that stupid or not.”

“He’s not.” Hermione said in a firm voice, drawing everyone’s attention. “Zacharias is a bit of a prat, but he’s quite clever. He knows a lawsuit against Harry wouldn’t get him anywhere. I’d be more worried about him trying to attack you, Malfoy. He’s the sort, you know.”

“No worries, love.” Harry whispered warmly in Draco’s ear. “If he touches you, I’ll kill him.”

Draco choked at the loving, tender way Harry promised to murder his ex-fiancé, earning him strange looks from Harry’s best friends, who hadn’t heard the comments. “Ah, yes. Well, I don’t think Zach will try _anything_. He’ll most likely sulk off to lick his wounds, then pretend the whole thing didn’t happen and snarl at anyone who brings it up.”

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly. “No offense, but weren’t we meant to be talking to you _without_ Malfoy around, Harry?”

Draco sneered. “You’d best get used to me, Weasley, since I’m marrying Harry. I’ll be around _a lot_ from now on.” Seeing Ron tense, his fingers curling around his wand, Draco snorted and rolled his eyes before standing. “Don’t worry; I was just letting Harry know I was home.” He leaned down and gave Harry another soft kiss, then said. “I’ll be lying down in our room, love. I’m a bit tired.”

“Of course, Draco. Rest. I don’t want you wearing yourself out.” Harry stroked Draco’s cheek lightly, then patted his flat stomach. “Go on; I’ll check on you when I’m done.”

Draco inclined his head briefly to Harry’s friends, then turned on his heel and left the room. It would take him some time to adjust to Harry’s friends; of that he was certain.

Harry returned to answering Hermione’s probing questions as best he could. It wasn’t a big deal; soon enough, she would understand. They all would. Then everything would be perfect.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_They say insanity is something that gets worse with time. That a fractured mind just keeps breaking as time goes on. The cracks spread, the insanity grows, the mind breaks further. I don’t know if that’s true or not; it’s hard for me to judge. I’d ask Draco, but I don’t know if that’s a wise idea. I think I’m a little bit afraid of what he might say._

_But it’s alright. We’re together; everything is perfect. Everything is just as it’s meant to be; just as it always should have been. We’re together; a family; perfect._

_Everything is perfect._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_**Nine Months After Draco’s Disappearance:** _

Draco curled onto his side, his arms wrapped around his swollen belly. The room around him was the same as it had been for the last nine months: peeling wallpaper, boarded-up windows, and the smell of dust and mildew that came from a room too-long sealed. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, locked up in this place; Draco couldn’t remember. But then, there were a lot of things he couldn’t remember these days. Draco couldn’t remember what his fiancé’s voice sounded like; he couldn’t remember how his mother took her tea; he couldn’t remember what his receptionist’s name had been.

What Draco _could_ remember was the first time he’d been hungry enough to eat all of the food given to him, rather than just a few bites – just over a week into his stay. He remembered how it hadn’t seemed tainted; hadn’t seemed drugged. So he’d kept eating what he’d been given. And he remembered how, a week or so after he’d started eating, his captor had come to him again – the first time he’d come to Draco since that first visit, when Draco had refused to eat.

Draco had woken up to the feel of the man above him, whispering in his ear. It had been dark in the room, and the voice had been so soft, so loving…and Draco had forgotten his captivity, forgotten his captor, and assumed it was Zach. Draco had responded; had allowed the man inside him; had taken pleasure in the act. And when it was over, and the man whispered his love, Draco had sleepily replied with his own declaration. Draco had been startled into full-awareness when his _‘Love you too, Zach._ ’ resulted in a wand being pressed to his throat.

Draco had remembered then; his kidnapping, and everything else. Draco had begged the man not to hurt him even as he wished he could scald the memory of the man’s touch from his skin, and his psychotic captor had switched modes with a swiftness that was startling. In an instant, he became soothing; protective; caring. The mood-change had been nearly as frightening to Draco as the wand at his throat, since it screamed the truth of his mental-instability. His captor had left him again shortly after that.

When Draco had woken again, there was a ring on his finger. A horribly pretentious, diamond-and-emerald, platinum engagement ring that made Draco sneer with distaste; he much preferred the simple gold bands he and Zach had picked out together. Whoever his captor was, he had _no_ taste. Unfortunately, some spell locked the ring to Draco’s hand; it wouldn’t come off, no matter what he did.

It hadn’t been long after that, that Draco realized he was pregnant; how long exactly, he couldn’t say, because his sense of time was shot. 

And now, his belly was cramping and Draco knew the baby must be due. He bit his lip, determined not to scream. He didn’t want to bring his captor running. He didn’t want his captor near him at all. He would deliver the baby himself, in silence, even if it killed him. He had been planning this for weeks. Part of him was praying the man was away; sometimes he didn’t see the man for long stretches of time and Draco assumed he had a job of some sort. If he was at work, Draco could hopefully get this all done and over with in peace.

When the pain abated somewhat, Draco scrambled in the side table drawer. He pulled out the broken piece of glass he’d hoarded from the time he’d broken the mirror he’d been brought. Though his captor had cleaned it up, a piece had flown under the bed. Draco had found it later and kept it, with this in mind. It was going to hurt, but Draco didn’t care. He just hoped his magic would do what needed to be done, despite his lack-of-wand. He’d been practicing wandless magic, in the hopes it would help. He wasn’t ready to die, though he thought he might be getting close…this captivity was worse than anything he’d ever imagined. 

The broken glass was dragged low across his belly and Draco shoved a bit of wadded-up sheet into his mouth, biting down on it to keep from screaming. He wished he had even a basic pain-potion. Or a shot of Firewhiskey. Or _anything_ , really, to help numb the pain. But he didn’t, and this had to be done, so he kept going. This was the only way. Several cuts later, with his head swimming and his hands slicked with blood, Draco was able to pull the child from his body. 

It began to cry, soft mewling sounds that nonetheless made Draco’s spinning head pound. “Shhh...” He soothed softly, his voice shaking as he looked at the little girl he’d just birthed. “I’ll take care of you in a minute. Shhh...”

Then Draco pressed his hand to the bleeding wound on his belly and murmured the healing spell he’d learned from his godfather during the war. It was a soft chant, almost like a song, and it had once saved his life. He was praying it would do so again. Slowly, the muscle and skin knit itself together. It seemed to Draco to take forever, but finally it was done. And Draco turned to the child squirming and crying beside him. He lifted the baby with blood-slicked hands, trembling all over. He’d made his choice; he knew what he had to do. He loved the baby – had loved her from the first moment he’d felt her move within him – and he couldn’t damn the child to a life here, in this room, with him. He just couldn’t do it.

He tenderly cradled the little girl to his chest with one arm, and with the other groped for the piece of broken glass he’d dropped. “Shhh...” He crooned, tears stinging his eyes and tightening his throat as he rocked her. “It’ll be over soon, Talitha…shhh...”

The child in his arms suddenly blinked open her huge eyes and looked up at Draco. Talitha’s eyes were almond-shaped and a strange, dark blue that was nearly grey - newborn eyes, Draco thought. His head spun dizzily and the child’s eyes suddenly seemed vibrantly green, then they weren’t. It was a brief illusion; a trick of the light, or Draco’s own mind, but it made his thoughts whirl. Dark hair was matted to the baby’s head with blood and other things Draco didn’t want to think about, and Draco couldn’t get the momentary flash of green out of his head when looking at Talitha’s eyes.

And Draco felt the glass slip from his hand once more as he suddenly realized who had fathered the child in his arms. Who his captor was. Because looking down at the sweet face of his daughter, it was suddenly, horrifyingly obvious.

And the small bit of hope Draco had still had - that he would be released, or rescued one day - burned away like mist in the summer sun. He would never be free from this place; _never_.

The child in his arms squirmed again, still sobbing, and Draco was torn for a long moment on what, precisely, he ought to do. Finally, with tears streaming down his cheeks, Draco brought the child closer to his chest, letting her suckle.

If he killed the child, he would doom himself. His captor would kill him in his rage. Draco was, quite suddenly, certain of it. And even if he didn’t, Draco would be alone in this place. Forever. He would never again see anything except this place; these walls; the man who held him here. And, now, the child. _His_ child; his daughter.

At least this way, he had someone to love.

Even if it was only the child of Harry Potter, rather than the many children he’d planned to have with Zach; with the man he actually loved.

It was better than nothing.

_**~ The End ~** _


End file.
